


Camouflaged

by halcyonicgrey



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:16:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonicgrey/pseuds/halcyonicgrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after Reichenbach, Sherlock in disguise bartends at a pub where John goes at least bi-weekly for about a year. John starts to open up to Sherlock in disguise, about their adventures and how he eventually fell in love with him but never told him. Then for the third year, Sherlock leaves the pub to go hunt down Moriarty’s accomplices. Sherlock as himself reunites with John and admits he was the bartender for a year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John made his way to the pub down Baker Street after a particularly tiring day at the clinic. It also didn’t help that today was exactly a year after John lost Sherlock at Reichenbach, so it was appropriate to be thinking a little bit more about the consulting detective. They say the proper amount of time to mourn the loss of a friend is a year, to experience birthdays and holidays without them, but it seemed the anniversary only strengthened the mellow feelings John had begun to experience related to the loss of Sherlock. Tonight, John had thought it appropriate to go out instead of being alone at the flat on Baker Street. John hadn’t had it in him to leave Baker Street after losing Sherlock, even though leaving might help John forget him quicker. Mycroft had sent John some money as compensation for the rent, so he needn’t find a flat cheaper. To be fair to himself, he had adequately pushed Sherlock to the back of his mind, though John never adapted to civilian life in the year between Reichenbach and now, without the crime scenes and the chases.

John entered the pub and sat down at the bar, being promptly greeted by a strange, new, and unusually familiar face. “Where’s Aris tonight?” John questioned the whereabouts of his regular acquainted bartender.  
“Oh, she was able to leave for her study abroad programme earlier than she thought” answered her replacement.  
“Oh, I knew she was doing an abroad programme, but not so soon. She was bartending to help pay for it.”  
“Apparently she won a scholarship, so the money she had saved up already plus the scholarship was enough. I’m her replacement for now.”  
“I-I really liked her,” John began to stutter, realizing that his tone might have upset the new bartender across from his habitually frequented seat, “Not that I have anything against you, it’s just that she helped me get through sort of a rough patch a while back.”  
“What happened?” The man queried.  
“I don’t really feel up to explaining now. Sorry – I don’t even know your name. It’s not that you don’t seem trustworthy, but it really takes me awhile to—“  
John found himself interrupted. “I completely understand. I’m entirely new to you. You probably came in here seeking the comfort in a good friend, and it hasn’t done you any good to know that she isn’t here.”  
“No, it hasn’t, really.”  
The man standing across from John introduced himself and held his hand out for John to shake, “Hayden Sullivan.”  
John took his hand, “Nice to meet you, Hayden, though it was displeasing not to see Aris tonight. I’m John Watson.” Hayden gave John a small and pleasant smile as they locked eyes for a moment.  
John started again, “I meant what I said earlier. You really seem trustworthy—It seems like it’s against some bartender code not to be, but it really takes a while for me to trust.”  
“It’s completely fine, John. I didn’t become a bartender fully expecting people to open up to me, despite the stereotype.”  
“My defenses aren’t as down as they were with Aris after—.“ John’s eyes took on a distant gaze for a moment before he realized what he was just about to reveal. “Sorry, It’s late, I should get going.” As John arose from his bar stool, Hayden stopped John from leaving too soon, “I apologize, John.”  
“You don’t have a reason to apologize.”  
“But I do. You didn’t get what you came here for.”  
“It’s fine, really. I’m sure you’ll fill in for Aris nicely eventually. Sorry I didn’t explain.”  
“It’s quite alright—“ But John was already halfway to the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns to the pub to see Hayden again but he soon realizes he can't relive Sherlock's death again.   
> A visit to Molly is also made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The majority of my fanfic was written before the Reichenbach Fall aired, but now I've decided to incorporate some details into my fic after seeing it. There are minor spoilers so I'd avoid reading the rest of my story unless you've seen the episode. Mostly beta-ed by cosmicsquirrels on tumblr. Any mistakes are mine.

John was genuinely upset he didn’t get to mourn the loss of Sherlock over with Aris, who already knew the back story, but he did find a strange comfort in Hayden’s demeanor towards him in the pub two weeks ago. It was that same demeanor that compelled him to return to his usual seat in the pub. Work hadn’t particularly upset him for the previous weeks, but John realized that he really had the desire to make a new friend in Hayden. For the past year, his only friend was Aris as he never talked to his coworkers beyond what was necessary. Even contact time with Aris was somewhat limited because he only occasionally made his way to the pub while 221b Baker Street was his main refuge. John soon found that the loss of Aris’ presence took a small toll on him. He hadn’t known how comforting talking to Aris about Sherlock had been for the previous twelve months. He had long since given up on appointments with his therapist since the last time didn’t significantly release any of his heartache.

Seeking solace alone in his flat didn’t help matters at all. He found that he desperately needed comfort outside of his own mind. Someone to talk to instead of the emptiness Baker Street held. Occasionally he would find himself muttering to Sherlock about his day only to turn around to find Sherlock wasn’t on the sofa, steepled fingers aiding his thought processes. He’d also hear faint scrapings of the violin in the middle of the night which theoretically should have comforted him. It kept him up late at night, still wishing for the miracle that Sherlock Holmes would make his return home. There was a tangible ache in his heart, yearning to see Sherlock again. He ached for the Corporeal. Concrete. Solid. John wanted more than the glimpses in the corner of his eye and the faint stirrings of a violin in the back of his mind. While traversing towards the pub, John resolved to trust Hayden at least a little bit just to take some of the previous unrecognized strain off his mind.

Taking a deep breath, John entered the pub doors and immediately looked to his right to the bar to find Hayden serving another customer. Hayden looked up to see John close to the barstool he last occupied. A grin took up the space on most of Hayden's face.   
“I knew you’d be back eventually.” Hayden slid a pint across to John. John made a hum in agreement, as he took a comforting sip. “I didn’t know how much I took refuge in this pub until before now.“  
“I take it you haven’t found anyone other than Aris to confide in?”  
“No, no one. Aris was the first and only person I really talked to for the past year.”  
“Why, may I ask, don’t you trust often?”  
“Primarily, I was a doctor serving on enemy lines. Being in the war,” John hesitated, “I put my defenses up. I didn’t know who I could trust.”  
 “Primarily?” Hayden questioned.  
 “Yeah. Then living with my flatmate-I kind of started to learn a few things”  
“How so?”  
“Well-he was great at observing people and their antics, and since I was around him so much, I began to pick up his ways of observing. Knowing if I could trust someone or not.”  
“You speak in the past tense.” Hayden noted.  
John stuttered. “He-we-well-we-“  
“Sorry, Did I just—“  
 “No, I—“  
 “Hayden, we need you in the back.”  
 “Sorry, John. I’ll be right back” John didn’t bother waiting, figuring he didn't want to explain Sherlock's death.

His troubles still unaided by going to the pub, John didn’t head straight to Baker Street. As a year of being alone and avoiding all of his old friends had not helped, John felt a visit to an old acquaintance was in order. Molly was just a slight detour away at St. Bart’s. He was not completely aware of the route he took to get to Molly’s office but knocked on the slightly a jar door right away. Sensing John’s sorrow, Molly quickly enveloped John in her arms. Her hug was the first comforting touch he had in a long while so John allowed himself deep breaths while in her arms and hugged her in return.

John broke their silence. “I apologize for avoiding you Molly.”  
Molly deflected. “It was the only way that you knew how to mourn him so I understand. We all have our ways of mourning. Though I don’t completely understand why you’re here today.”  
“I’ve been avoiding everyone since—since we lost him and I’ve realized that being alone didn’t help at all. I wanted to go to someone who’s known how it feels to lose him. I thought maybe just being in the same company who also knew him might help. You don’t seem too distraught though Molly.”  
“Don’t feel bad that you aren’t completely together yet. I didn’t know him as well as you John. Sure I pined for him but I knew I couldn’t any feelings from him like he gave you. He trusted me. Only because he knew I’d reel out some cadavers or let him use the lab at any given moment, but his demeanor completely changed when he was around you. It may not have seemed so, but he was more patient with you John. It was a completely different kind of trust than he gave me.” “I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be. I was stupid in believing he’d feel anything for me like I did him. I did my mourning awhile back.” Molly lightly squeezed John’s shoulder. “There isn’t a set time for anyone to get over a friend’s death. It’s only appropriate that it will take you the longest since you were the closest to him.”  
John was relieved by her words. “Thank you Molly. I appreciate it.”  
 “You know where to find me anytime you need me.”  
When John left the most recent text on Molly’s phone was a plain and simple “Thank you.”


End file.
